23 of 24 - Al Marmoom

We called it the Oasis. A few miles out from Dubai, past the glass and the graft.

The road was good—quiet enough to talk, smooth enough to think.

We’d head out with a flask and a sandwich, no rush, just a trip away from the city.

 

Al Marmoom never disappointed. There was always something to see.

Fish made nests in the lake sand—accurately fluted, like decorative dishes.

Beetles chased the car, combative and absurd. Like Don Quixote.

Flamingos moved off in a honking crowd when we got too close.

Dragonflies often swarmed the car—sometimes a dozen, sometimes a hundred.

A raptor took a pigeon for its lunch, then rested in the reeds.

Deer slept beneath low bushes enjoying the shade.

Tall African birds leaned around the scrub to watch us go past.

 

We never visited without a natural treat.

Sometimes it was sound. Sometimes movement. Sometimes stillness.

It wasn’t a spectacle. It was a system.

And we were allowed to witness it.

We took a few photographs and we took notice.

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